


Of Upirs and Wolves

by colorofakiss



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Biting, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post- season 2, Werewolf Transformation, constipated boy feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorofakiss/pseuds/colorofakiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman and Peter finally stop orbiting each other long enough to figure out what they both want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I Hemlock Groved. Set after Season 2. I don't think the sex needs any tags but just in case biting isn't your thing, might want to skip it. 
> 
> Unbeta-d all mistakes are my own

Roman was inconsolable. 

Two weeks later and still no closer to finding Nadia had disheartened them, and worn at the hope that grew smaller by the day. Peter had expected violent anger, but the furious silence Roman walked about with worried him. Roman was never quiet about things that made him angry. Peter didn't know how to comfort him, and he wasn't sure Roman would've accepted it if he tried, so he hovered. It was the only thing he could think to do to offer support, and to soothe his own hurt.

Destiny didn't like the amount of time he spent at Roman's, and if he was being honest he had practically moved himself in, but honesty wasn't working for him lately. Honesty meant acknowledging the gluttonous thing growing in his lower stomach that ached, and wanted, and...

And.

Nevermind, and.

And, would make him wonder at the ease in which they fell into a routine. Orbiting each other. Roman still went to work at the White Tower in the early morning, before the sun had a chance to kiss the sky, and when Peter woke up later, there was always coffee made. Sometimes they ate their meals together, and sometimes they didn't. Sometimes Destiny showed up with Andreas and his outlandish stories. On those nights Roman ordered take-out, though they never did get that gun story out of him. 

Sometimes he'd find Roman standing in Nadia's room. Just standing, and breathing. Scenting the air, Peter guessed, because it's what he did when Roman wasn't there. Her room smelled of her sweet baby scent, and tears, and blood. 

Sometimes Roman would come home, and shit when did this glass house become a home, with pages of folklore with pictures of winged creatures. None of them matched the lizard-like shapeshifter, but it was better than doing nothing. Anything was better than sitting around and waiting, and pretending to live while part of them was missing. Which is how he found himself trying to assemble some ridiculous piece of furniture Roman had ordered online.

It came when Roman was out, so he thought he'd give it a try. This was a mistake he realized. The instructions weren't in any language he knew, and the diagrams had too many arrows. Not one to back down, he tried putting it together based on logic, but ended up with twelve extra screws and a leftover glass panel. Good enough for him, but he wagered, not for Roman. Destiny had called to check up on him and when he answered why he sounded frustrated, had laughed so tremendously, that he hung up on her. Taking it apart was irritating enough, but on the third attempt with still too many screws left and now a few pegs he started cursing it.

Roman opened his door to a barrage of Romani curses and snarls. 

"Peter, what-" he started but stopped upon seeing the outraged look on his face, and the pile of parts surrounding him. He snorted.

The sound caused Peter to still. It was the closest thing to laughter that Roman had given in weeks. 

"Leave it, I brought food," Roman said setting the bags down.

Peter gave one last grumble before going to open the refrigerator. He got out two beers and lifted himself onto the countertop. Sitting next to Roman made that feeling in his stomach flare up, which wasn't conducive to eating. Roman never commented on it, which was good, he didn't want to have to come up with some bullshit reason. Sighing, he held out the beer. Roman stared at it a second longer than Peter thought was necessary for his gesture of beer, and didn't keep the puzzled look off his face. Roman took it with a slow drag of his fingers. His gut tightened. 

Roman's eyes were electric. He was suddenly aware of how close the upir was, not that Peter noticed if they were in each other's space anymore, but he was in the v of his legs, and that was making it hard not to notice. Peter saw the moment when Roman's gaze went predatory. The feel of phantom hackles rising made his shoulders tense. He put his beer down and gripped the countertop.

"Don't," Peter said, the pitch of his voice dropping lower. 

"I'm not doing anything," Roman rolled his shoulders.

"Aren't you?" 

The question surprised Roman, and he rolled his eyes.

"Nothing to do with my upir-ness," he answered, tantalizing close. 

Peter had the sudden need to lunge, or to run. Roman had a way of making him feel like a coiled spring, tight but with the slightest provocation ready to burst. They'd been dancing away from this, from them, for days. For months, a voice whispered at the back of his mind. 

Roman licked his lips, an unconscious habit. It made Peter feel totally out of control.

He was so fucked.

Peter opened his mouth to say that this was a bad idea, that he was a bad idea, but it got swallowed up in Roman's lips, and then they were kissing.

Peter had thought about Roman's lips, many times before. He spent many nights remembering the shape of them, the color. He had kissed other guys, hoping to stop obsessing, but they were never what he wanted. Their lips never curled into that damned smirk, they didn't blow rings of smoke out of them, and they didn't taste like blood, like he always imagined they would. He wasn't disappointed with the taste of Roman. No, he was positive he would be ruined for any other guy. It'd never feel like this.

Peter let Roman kiss him for a bit, and then when the space between them started feeling too far, he wrapped a hand around Roman's waist, the other one winding around his neck, and brought him closer, closing the distance. Peter bit and licked into Roman's mouth, pouring every unsaid word and apology, and promise into him. Roman answered him in moans, sounds that hit him like the crack of his bones on a full moon. Hard, and fast, but sweet with relief. 

Roman's long fingers were creeping up the back of his shirt, feeling the knobs in his spine, the skin spread thin across them. They felt inquisitive, like he was searching for something. Almost all of Peter's bruises were gone, but the sickly yellow of some of them still lingered. Roman pulled back enough to nuzzle against Peter's neck.

"I don't understand where it comes from. Even though I've seen it, and I feel it when I'm near you, I don't see it now. Underneath there's a wolf." Roman's breath tickled the hairs there, and Peter closed his eyes at the kisses that were pressed there, against arteries that he knew Roman could feel the pulse of. He didn't use teeth, and Peter was both disappointed and relieved. 

"I don't understand where your fangs come from. They're there and then they're gone, but still a part of you," Peter groaned out that last part because Roman was sucking what was sure to become a large hickey at the juncture of his neck and it sent blood rushing south. "Fuck," he threw his head back and it hit one of the cabinet doors. Good, maybe it'd knock some sense into him, as he was quickly losing any he had. 

"Mm, good," Roman murmured, and proceeded to give him a matching mark on the other side. Peter wondered, with the part of his brain that wasn't currently exploding, how Roman would look with magenta colored marks on that fair skin of his. He imagined Roman walking into board meetings with marks, at odds with the rest of his image. 

"Roman," Peter said. He wanted to warn the upir that loving him wasn't a good idea, but the familiar look in his eyes stopped the words in his throat. Letha had looked at him like that, trusting, and open, and so full of love that it broke any hesitance Peter had. Fuck it. "Let's go upstairs," he said instead. Roman nodded and Peter felt his hands go to the legs he had wrapped around Roman's waist.

"I'm not letting you carry me up the stairs, forget it," Peter pushed at Roman's chest. "Maybe next time." He said with a smirk at the way Roman faltered before following him.

Wolves liked to chase, he knew this firsthand, but it felt exhilarating to be chased. 

Roman closed the door behind them, and quickly strode towards him. Peter used Roman's forward momentum to throw him down on the bed and straddle him. The smile he was rewarded with stuttered in his heart. It was too much, and he leaned down to get his lips back on Roman. He wanted to feel him, and suddenly there was too many layers of clothes between them. His frantic hands were joined by Roman's as they rid themselves of jackets, and shirts, anything that was between them.

"Can I?" Roman started to ask but stopped to roll them so Peter was under him. He scooted down and put his hand on Peter's belt. Peter's blood rushed in his ears and he bet Roman could hear it it's so loud.

Can he? The question hung in the air. 

Can he?

Can he what?

Peter looked down just in time to see Roman take the tip of him in his mouth, and oh fuck, he can. Distantly he can already hear Destiny's disapproval and he can't say he blames her. Having an upir's mouth on your dick is just begging to have it bit off. His instincts must still be fucked up from turning vargulf because the thought of teeth that close to his dick was having the opposite effect. He leaned up on his elbows to watch, even though watching was making it hard to breathe. 

Roman's hollowed cheeks were decorated with a flush that was easily going to haunt Peter for years. That goddamn mouth of his, just, fuck, Peter reached down and put his thumb against his lips with a little pressure, wondering if Roman could take his thumb in his mouth too. Roman's eyes dilated until they were nearly solid black, and his mouth stretched that much more to take his thumb to suck it along with his dick. A sound burbled out of Peter that was more growl than moan. He could feel Roman's tongue against his thumb, on his dick, and he worried that he might start hyperventilating, he couldn't get enough air.

He stomach muscles jumped when Roman started bobbing up and down, and he groaned when he heard the slick sounds of Roman touching himself. This was good, so good, but he missed Roman's mouth, and he wanted to touch him. Reluctantly, he used the hand that was cradling Roman's face to pull him off and lead him up back to his mouth. 

Their dicks slid against each other, and it stilled both of them. Peter was the first to reach down and get a hand around them, angling them together and with his other hand pulling Roman closer. The experimental thrust Roman gave made him shudder. Peter wrapped his legs around him, he needed, something, wanted-

Roman's mouth on his neck made sparks light behind his eyes. Fuck, this was going to be a thing, a thing he didn't want to look at too closely because he didn't trust Roman's barely there control but he wanted it. He wanted so badly to know what those teeth would feel like set into his skin. The upir must've been reading his mind because he felt teeth, hard enough to hold, but not enough to break skin.

"Roman," he said, warning him this time because while he was curious, he wasn't that stupid. 

"I know, I know, I just want-"

"I do too, but-"

"Trust me," Roman whispered against his jumping pulse. Fuck him, but he did. His hand squeezed around them as he titled his head back, baring his throat for the upir. Roman licked his way up his throat, and sucked a chunk into his mouth, teeth pressing down. Peter bucked up just as Roman thrust, and the friction was mind shattering. Roman shifted his weight so that he was bracing himself on one arm and wrapped his fingers around Peter's. He'd been leaking pre-come since he heard the growl force its way out of Peter, and the wet slick of it had his toes curling. Peter kept making breathy little nosies, but he wanted to hear that growl again. Wanted to feel it thrum through him.

Too many sensations crowded Peter, his dick, Roman's breath, his dick, the delicious pain in his neck, his dick, it all swirled around his head. His hands grasped Roman's shoulders, needing to ground himself, needing an anchor so that he didn't get swept away. Roman's bite got a little harder, and at that moment he didn't care whether it broke flesh or if he feed. It ripped a growl out of him and he bit his lip to stifle it. Roman licked at the bite, soothing it, and then licked up his neck to his lips. 

Peter twined his free hand in Roman's hair, and the gesture made Roman pull back so that they were nose to nose. It was his eyes that did it, those utterly hypnotic upir eyes, with their broken open vulnerability that pushed him over the edge. Roman gave a surprised sound and Peter felt the warm gush of his release, seconds after his own.

Wiping his hand on the comforter, Peter took Roman's face in his hands and kissed him, his heart brimming with affection. When the kisses became lazy and sated, Peter rolled them so that they were side by side. Roman's eyes focused, his pupil shrinking back to normal size. 

"Shee-it, your neck," Roman said reaching out to touch it.

"How bad?" Peter wanted to get something to clean them up but he also didn't want to move. 

"It looks like some rabid animal used it for a chew toy." 

Peter punched him in the arm.

"That rabid animal would be you," Peter snorted, eyes half closing.

"Do you mind?"

"Nah, I don't give a fuck who sees." Destiny was going to be outraged, marks or no marks. 

"Good, I like them." Roman slipped his hand into Peter's, and closed his eyes. For once they slept the whole night through.


	2. Wolves Bite Just as Hard as Upirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny warns Peter off of Roman, but it falls on deaf ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't expecting this to have another chapter but I couldn't resist. This may be becoming a full blown chapter fic. If you wanted more dialogue and smut than you'll be happily satisfied. There's unprotected sex, biting, and a bit of a blood kink going on that you should be warned of. Pretty typical of Hemlock Grove. Thanks for reading :)
> 
> unbeta-d all mistakes are my own

Destiny let him walk into her apartment before whacking him on the back of his head.

"Ow, shit, what was that for?" Peter rubbed at the smarting spot. 

"Are you a fucking idiot? What were you thinking? I told you...you didn't actually let him bite you did you?!" She shrieked as she attempted to pull his collar aside to get a better look at the impressive hickeys. He batted her away, trying to make a beeline for the refrigerator. 

Andreas walked out in leopard print boxers to see why his Creamsicle was making such a fuss just as she had pulled Peter's shirt almost half off so that he got an eye full of the love bites dotting his neck. 

"Would you look at that, what did I say, huh? All you needed to do was get laid," Andreas grinned wide until he saw the fury in his Creamsicle's eyes and then he promptly wiped the grin off his face.

"Yeah laid, but not with an upir," she gestured with her hands. 

"An upir? You have balls of steel man," Andreas shook his head. 

"And shit for brains," Destiny groused. 

"So, is it true? I have a second cousin that fucked an upir. Said they do this thing with their eyes, and bam! Mind-blowingly good sex, she was never the same afterward." Destiny glared at him but Andreas just shrugged.

"Uh, they do, do an eye thing," Peter started but at Destiny's outraged noise put his hands up and said, "But I don't know about any eye thing during sex." 

"He probably doesn't know how. He hasn't been trained, and it's not safe for you two to be messing around. He's not in control." 

"I can handle Roman," Peter said. Destiny shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. 

"No, you can't. You're a nomad, Peter. When you leave again, how do you think this will end? Olivia butchered the man she loved-"

"He was trying to kill her!" 

"And the loss of you will feel the same to him." 

And the loss of you will feel the same to him. Destiny's words kept ringing in his ears, playing on a loop that grew into a headache. Sex was always a whole thing, at least it seemed to him that the people he fucked always intended it to be a whole thing. He didn't know if Roman wanted this to be...a thing, or just something they did. He did know that Destiny was wrong, he wasn't leaving this time. When they got Nadia back, he wasn't leaving her. Or Roman. Roman, with his out of control hunger, and those damning eyes that gave him earnest looks just as often as they glared in arrogance.

Letha would be laughing her ass off if she were still alive to see him finally acknowledging his feelings for Roman. She would have seen it coming, she would have talked about it with him. She would have known what to do, what to say, to make it better. Peter missed her so profoundly that his ribs hurt with the effort it took not to cry. 

He had just dozed off in the grass when a dark shadow fell over his face.

"Did you know you had a backyard?" Peter asked as he squinted up at Roman. 

"I saw the blueprints before I bought it," Roman shrugged. He slid gracefully next to Peter and laid down so that they were both staring up at the sky. 

"So, how was work, dear?" Peter's shit eating grin accompanied his sing song tone. 

Roman flipped him off.

"Fucking long, and Pryce's bullshit with getting new lab assistants took hours to sort out." He rubbed his temples in pained annoyance. "Want to call Destiny and Andreas over for dinner?" 

"Uh, probably not a good idea. She doesn't really approve of the whole," he gestured at his neck. 

"Oh right." Roman sat up and reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of cigarettes. 

"She's worried, you know, about your control-"

"She should be. You should be." He blew a perfect ring of smoke, and Peter had the sudden urge to kiss him. 

"If Olivia could help with-"

"Fuck, Olivia. After what she did, fuck her," Roman spat out. 

"You mean with Norman? It could've been handled better, but he-"

"No," Roman turned his head so Peter could see the anger filling his green eyes. "I mean with Letha."

And when Roman started talking, his hands shook with the memory of Olivia's revelation. He told Peter every horrible part of Nadia's existence. How Olivia manipulated him, how he didn't remember, his fight with her over Nadia. Every thing he hadn't had the chance to explain. Peter watched him with his jaw clenched, listening to all the things Roman hated about himself. Once he was done he sucked in air, as if he had been sobbing and couldn't catch his breathe, and waited for Peter to say something.

Peter's hands curled and uncurled, and for a brief second Roman was sure he was going to hit him, but instead of fists it was Peter's mouth on his. He made a sound of surprise that was eaten up in the hungry way Peter was kissing him. 

Roman let himself drown in Peter's fervor, let himself be pushed down into the grass and held, like he wasn't a monster. Like he was deserving of happiness. He put his hands on Peter's ass, grinding them together and wrapped his legs around him. Roman had never been one to enjoy kissing, he'd always been too focused on the pulse of blood in their neck, their thighs, the scent of it when it welled up under a cut. Kissing Peter wasn't like any of his previous experiences. Kissing Peter felt like how blood tasted, deeply satisfying. 

"Peter," Roman gasped out when Peter had moved on to giving them matching hickeys. He pulled back, his lips red from kissing.

"What?" 

"Fuck me." Roman squirmed a little under him, but Peter had completely stilled. 

It's not like Peter hadn't thought about fucking Roman. He thought about it, a lot. Thought about how Roman would look, flushed and spread out under him. It was a favorite fantasy of his, but he hadn't expected Roman to want it too. Hadn't expected Roman to want him like this. 

"Yeah, okay. Yeah?" 

"Yeah. On the bed though, I'm not fucking out here in the grass," he said. 

Peter stood up and offered Roman a hand, and didn't let go when he started for the house. 

"Lube is in the bottom drawer," Roman told him as he tossed his jacket and shirt into the laundry basket. Peter opened the beside drawer and stared.

"Can I ask why you have an entire drawer filled with lube?" He picked up a couple of bottles and sniffed one. 

"I had to occupy myself somehow while you were gone," Roman grinned. 

"Fair enough." 

"You ever do this before?" Roman reclined against the pillows with his hands behind his head. 

"Not with another guy. Came close, but," he shrugged. 

"But what?" 

"Just didn't work out." They weren't you, he wanted to say. 

"Come here," Roman motioned with his hands. Peter tossed the lube on the bed and crawled between his legs, letting Roman undress him. 

He was quickly getting addicted to Roman's hands, to his fingers stroking him. He liked them tangled in his hair when they kissed, and grabbing his ass. He was fond of the way they twitched in his grasp when he threaded them together and licked his way down to Roman's dick. 

With a quick lick to the underside that caused Roman to jolt, he picked up the lube bottle and squirted some onto his fingers. Watching the slide of his finger enter Roman made him painfully hard. The breathy noises he was making set Peter's heart fluttering like a moth against a light. 

"Good?" Roman was arching towards his finger but he wanted to make sure.

"You're going too slow," Roman said as Peter crooked his finger. 

"What's the rush?" Peter put his other hand on the flat of Roman's stomach to hold him still while he slowly fucked his finger in and out. Roman's muscles trembled under his hand. He wondered if he could make him come like this, slow and drawn out. He added another finger and enjoyed the lust blown pupils that looked back. 

Peter thought he could come just from staring into Roman's eyes. As if a caress stroked over him, Roman's eyes slid over him, and he swore he could feel the ghost of hands on his skin. When he gently sucked the tip of Roman's dick into his mouth, he had to double check that the hand in his hair was actually there. 

Roman swept Peter's hair out of the way so he could watch his mouth open over him. The glide of his tongue sent a shudder down his leg. Roman watched as Peter unraveled him with the agonizingly slow bob of his head. A different kind of hunger burned through him, one that curled under his ribcage. On a particularly good stroke Roman fisted his hand in Peter's hair a little harder than he meant and the moan that tore out of him broke through any patience the upir had.

"Peter, please," he begged, his hips jerking with the addition of a third finger. Peter had used more lube and the easy slide of it made the ache for him that much worse. 

Oh the begging, the begging was too sweet for Peter to resist. He moved his fingers faster, and watched Roman's mouth open on a gasp. His hands fisted in the comforter. 

"Please, please, please," he groaned when Peter removed his fingers. 

Peter got more lube and slicked himself up, moving so that he was positioned better. Roman arched his hips up to meet him, eager to have him. Peter inched in, and Roman whimpered through it, little sounds of pleasure that strangled the air out of him.

"I've got you," Peter told him once he bottomed out. He caressed his neck and titled his face up so that he could kiss him. Roman writhed impatiently beneath him. Peter wondered who was fucking who here, and gave a couple of shallow thrusts. "Good?"

"Shit, yes, I'm fine, just move your ass already," Roman bit out. Peter raised an eyebrow and went down on his elbows, feet digging in the bed as he thrust hard. The sound Roman made dissolved any thoughts Peter had on going slow, and gentle. They stared at each other for a moment, realization dawning in both of them that this was going to be so fucking good. 

Roman became a thing of hungry hands, touching Peter wherever he could. Hands slid down his sweat slicked back, and over the bump of ribs, down his stomach to curl in the hair there. He swept one through Peter's hair and used it to angle his head so that his neck was bared. He pet down Peter's neck, lingering on his pulse before feeling the strain in the muscles of his back.

Peter shifted his hips and the next thrust went in on an angle that spread warmth in a tightening coil in his stomach. He licked a stripe up Roman's neck and to his mouth where he chased the lingering taste of copper. Peter watched him reach down to palm his dick and he reached down to help.

The change in Peter's thrusts and their hands jacking him made him bite his lip. When Peter nosed at the base of his neck and unexpectedly bit down, he came with a shaking breath. Holding Peter's head he groaned as the pain got mixed up in pleasure.

Flashes of blood splattering and the feel of skin tearing between his teeth, and sliding down his tongue, crossed Peter's mind. His orgasm lit through him, his hip stuttered, and in the background hum of it he could hear Roman moaning. 

When he finally let go of Roman, his jaw ached and he knew before he looked that there would be blood. 

"Shit, Roman-"

"I know. It's fine," his voice came out shaky. "Although, I was pretty sure I was the upir out of the two of us," he grinned.

Peter shook his head. He started to get up but Roman pulled him down so that they were side by side. 

"That's going to at least need a bandage," Peter pointed out but Roman just scooted closer so their mouths were almost touching.

"It'll heal." He licked into Peter's mouth, tasting his blood and a sweetness that was all Peter. 

The doorbell ringing broke them apart. Roman raised his eyebrows in question. Peter shrugged. 

"You get the door while I fix this," Roman gestured at his neck. Peter nodded and slid off the bed to put his pants on. He had just fixed his shirt into place when he opened the door.

Destiny pushed past him into the house.

"You two are the biggest fucking idiots I've ever known."


	3. Sweet Dreams Are Not Made of These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny brings help, and the boys share a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I can't do chapter summaries to save my life)  
> Hey-o, it's another chapter. No sex warnings in this one, though there's more blood in it, so be warned if that's a thing for you. Also a drug mention. I'm enjoying where this is going, so there will be more chapters after this one. 
> 
> unbeta-d all mistakes are my own  
> Thanks for reading, and for all the kudos and comments :)

"You could've called," Peter grimaced at the glare Destiny was giving him. 

"You weren't answering your cell. I just," she ran a hand through her hair. "I was trying to reach you before, but I obviously didn't get here in time. You have blood on your chin by the way," she sat down on the couch and crossed her legs and arms. He swiped at his chin with the back of his hand. "Don't you see how reckless this is?" 

He didn't say no, because he knew it was reckless but didn't care. He shrugged. Destiny made a disgusted sound. 

"I know you're lonely, and Roman was your first friend, but you can't mess around with someone like him." 

"Who says I'm messing around?" 

Destiny's eyes widened.

"You can't be serious about him!" She huffed, exasperated.

"Keep your voice down," he whispered. "Can't we just keep it at, 'it's complicated', and leave it at that? Roman and I are," he motioned his hands in an arc. "It feels right, strong," he tried to explain. 

"I thought that might be the case," her mouth turned into a grim grin. "Look, I've made a couple of calls around, cashed in a few favors, and found someone who's worked with upirs before. They're willing to come here and teach Roman control, if he's willing. And-"

"Call them. I'll do it," Roman said as he came down the stairs. Destiny nodded and then caught sight of the bandage on his neck.

"Here I thought I'd have to worry about you biting him," she mused. 

"Not this time." 

Peter quirked an eyebrow at that but Roman wasn't looking at him. 

"Do you think this person can really help?" Roman looked hopeful. 

"She's the best. For the time being though, you two shouldn't have sex."

Not have sex, right. Lynda had never been one to deny him things, and no, wasn't a word that was used very often. (Though the few times it had been, he had listened, the shock of it making him not want to disobey.) He couldn't help but want to do the exact opposite of what people told him not to do. So, when Destiny told him they should abstain from sex, suddenly all he wanted to do was drag Roman back upstairs and fuck him silly. Roman had snorted an affronted noise but Destiny had glared until the arrogance wilted out of him. They ate dinner in silence, the tension taut between them. Thankfully, Peter had suggested they hit the hay early.

His hand tapped out an anxious rhythm on the back of the couch. He had waved off Roman's offer to sleep in his bed, that was a temptation he didn't want to play with. Besides, Roman's couch was ridiculously comfortable even though it didn't look it. He slipped into sleep a little after two in the morning. 

The splintering sound of glass breaking jolted Peter from his dreamless sleep. 

"Roman?" When he didn't get an answer he bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time. Roman wasn't in his bed and a frantic look around led him to the light peeking from under the bathroom door. 

"Roman?" Peter pushed the door open. Sitting on the toilet with one hand propping up his head, Roman looked up at him with eyes that dripped blood. "What have you done?" Peter took the washcloth out of his hand and wrung it out in the sink. The water swirled crimson down the drain. It reflected off of the pieces of mirror that had been shattered, and for a moment Peter stared at the glittering shards. He wondered if they told Roman anything. 

"I was trying to see her. Like I did with Shelley," his voice rasped. He coughed into his hand and when Peter looked he saw blood in his palm. Streaming down his cheeks, and from his ears, the blood fell in droplets that hit the tile on the floor with plops. "I just want to see her, I want her back." 

Peter grit his teeth as his heart hurt from the grief in Roman's tone. He didn't say anything, didn't know what to say that would soothe him. Roman let him wipe the blood off of his face, and his hand. 

"I don't think it works on other upirs. I couldn't fully see Shelley but I felt her, I knew she was alive. I can't feel Nadia. It's static, white piercing noise. I can't see her at all. What if that means she's, Peter, what if that-"

"No." Peter held Roman's face in his hands so that they were inches away from each other. "She's alive. We'd know if she wasn't. She's alive." 

"How can you be sure?" 

"I knew when Letha died, I would know. I would know it in my balls." 

Roman nodded, and his shoulders slumped a little more. 

"Go lay down, I'll clean this up." 

He cleaned the glass out of the sink and wiped the blood off the floor, and ignored the way his hand shook. The pit in his stomach at finding Roman bleeding gnawed at the part of him that had gotten attached. That had gone and fallen in-

Nope, better not to think of that. Peter splashed water on his face, and didn't think about how much Roman meant to him. He had meant to slip out of the room but Roman was watching for him. 

"Don't," Roman said.

Peter could hear the rest of the sentence. Don't go, don't leave. He laid down on the bed facing Roman and saw tension drain from his face. He watched as Roman's eyes got heavy with sleep, and eventually lost the staring contest they seemed to be having. He watched him for a while after, letting his emotions get tangled and twisted until he exhausted himself into sleep.

That night they dreamt of Letha. 

Peter was running through the forest, weaving through the trees, his human legs going slower than he wanted. He wanted to reach it, the light, that was just out of his reach. It laughed at him when his hand closed around air as he tried to catch it. He knew that laugh. Or he thought he did. It darted over a familiar log and then stopped, landing on the hammock in front of Nicolae's house. He put a hand up to shield his eyes as it burned bright for a minute and then dimmed, settled into a form that nearly had him on his knees with joy. Letha smiled at him and he rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms and holding on.

"I'm glad to see you too," she quipped, and her voice wound around him like a winter coat. When he didn't make a move to let her go, she rested her head on his shoulder. "You have to find our daughter. You and Roman have to get her back."

"How?"

"When the moon's full. Use your nose. She smells like Roman, and like me. Think you could still track me?" She wiggled out of his hold so she could see him.

"Yes." I'd know your scent anywhere, anytime, anyplace, he thought.

"Prove it," she winked at him and took off, running back into the trees.

"Letha!" He called after her as he followed, trying to reach her.

"Letha!"

Roman slammed the brakes on his car and skid to a screeching stop. The sky was blood red and he'd been driving to...somewhere. It didn't matter, he supposed. He looked around at the empty highway and to the left, just inside the tree line, a shinning orb came into view. He didn't remember doing a line, and his hallucinations were usually dreary, but that could be the only explanation for the bouncing light. He drove towards it and it took off, so he stepped on the gas and followed right behind. The landscape changed, suddenly, disorienting him so that he slowed and when the world righted itself he was in front of the White Tower. 

"Took you long enough," Letha rolled her eyes at him from the passenger seat.

"Letha?" His voice broke, and it softened her face into fondness. "Letha, I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry, please, Le-"

"Shhh. I forgive you," she pulled him across the seat to her. He clutched at her while she stroked his hair. "I need you and Peter to find our daughter. Can you do that?" 

"We've tried. I don't know what to do anymore. I can't see her."

"You can't, but Peter can, with your help. Help him to see her." She pointed at her eyes and then his. 

"I don't think I can," he said hopelessly. 

"Here, try with me. Do you want to see what Heaven looks like?" 

He stared into her blue eyes as they swirled into darkness, and then a brilliant light burst into him, blinding him into consciousness. 

Roman jolted awake, sweat sticking to his skin and the sheets unpleasantly. He went to wipe at his eyes, expecting tears, but the drop of red on his fingers told him differently. Beside him, Peter fidgeted in his sleep. He eased out of bed and slowly made it to the bathroom on slightly unsteady legs. 

"Shit," he whispered when he saw the tracks of blood. It wasn't much, but all of the recent blood loss couldn't be good for his hunger. He washed it away and looked into the cracked mirror. His reflection was splintered among the remaining pieces. 

He wanted to shake Peter awake and see if what Letha told him was true, but he stopped himself just shy of touching him. If this dream was true, they were going to need all the rest they could get.


	4. A Dream is Just a Dream Until It Isn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Roman realize that they've been sharing dreams again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post up a short one just in time for Christmas :) Thanks for reading and commenting, you all keep me going. 
> 
> unbeta-d, all mistakes are my own

When Peter woke up Roman was already gone. He thought about calling him at work, but didn't feel this was the type of conversation to have over phone. What was he going to say? That he dreamt about Letha? That she told him they could save Nadia? As much as he wanted to believe it was her, he was skeptical. He had never avidly tried to track something during the full moon when he was all wolf. Mostly he just chased rabbits and spooked the occasional deer. Sometimes he ate grass. 

The full moon was a few days away and the thought of turning twisted nauseatingly in his gut. He hadn't told anybody that he was afraid of getting stuck. That he feared his wolf had finally had enough of being human and wouldn't let him shift back. In the moments when his wolf had taken over, when he could smell the fear in the room and had let it slide down his throat thick like syrup, he hadn't wanted to change back. Being the wolf was easier, decisions had a clear cut path. When he was a wolf he didn't have to worry about social norms or morality. If something threatened him, he killed it. The wolf was all instinct. There was an odd sort of peace about that.

It was a terrible secret to keep, but in that moment before he lunged, he knew his purpose, knew what his heart was telling him, he knew that it was Roman, and that Roman was going to kill him, and he trusted him to do that. He trusted the beautiful upir who loved him to put him down. He had wanted it.

He wondered if he still wanted it, the way he was now entangling himself with Roman wasn't exactly the recipe to a long life. 

His existential crisis could wait, nothing else mattered now except finding Nadia.

He found himself aimlessly wandering around in Roman's house, pacing back and forth. Restless inside the glass walls, he left for the comfort of the woods. 

He hadn't planned on going back to the house he shared with Lynda, but he was sure the hammock was still there. He could smell the rings of smoke before he saw them, and he smiled despite himself. 

"Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say wolf?" Roman swung back and forth, one leg dangled over the side. He was still in his suit. 

"Come here often?" Peter leaned against one of the trees holding up the swing. Roman shrugged in a way that indicated something made him uncomfortable. Peter could read between the lines. He came here often but didn't want to say it out loud. 

"I bought it." Roman waved the cigarette in the air. Peter raised a questioning eyebrow. "The land, the trailers. This hammock. Actually, I don't know if the hammock was included, but I'm assuming it was." He took a drag and smoke billowed out of his mouth, wisps of it curling around the hand he lazily waved in a mindless pattern. 

Peter didn't ask him why. It was either an impulse buy, or some way for Roman to hold onto him when he hadn't been there. He scratched the scruff on his chin.

Roman zeroed in on his neck, watching his fingers, and liquid heat filled his ribs. He licked his lips unconsciously. 

Peter felt himself suddenly grabbed by a madness that told him to turn his neck, elongating it to give Roman a better view. He knew he was riling Roman up, knew that this wasn't healthy but the hitch of Roman's breath made him want to do it just the same.

"Destiny said-"

"I know what Destiny said," Peter sighed. Roman ran his hand through his hair. 

"We've got to talk."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Peter asked with a hand on his heart and a large smirk. Roman rolled his eyes. 

"This is serious. I had a dream last night." 

Peter stilled, his heart pounded in his ears. 

"Letha was in it, she told me things. Things that can help." 

"I dreamt about her too. Tell me everything."

The sun was setting by the time they finished rushing out their words. Peter had gotten into the hammock with Roman, and the casualness of it, sharing space, distracted him from his words more than once. Roman had one leg dangling out, grounding them so they wouldn't tip, and the remains of his burned out cigarettes littered the dirt beneath them. He exhaled smoke out into the dimming light, and it leaked from his nostrils. For a second he looked very much like a dragon, reptilian and cold. 

"Shee-it," Peter finally said, tapping out a rhythm on his abdomen. 

"Shee-it," Roman agreed. "What do we do?" 

"We have to try," Peter motioned to his eyes and then Roman's. The upir stayed uncharacteristically silent. 

"I'm not sure that's the best idea," he finally said. 

"What do you mean, you heard what Letha said, we can use it to-"

"Yeah, yeah I heard her, but," he bit at the skin around his thumb. "It's not exactly safe."

"That's never stopped you before," Peter countered. He was surprised at Roman's hesitance. 

"It's never been you before," Roman bit out like it hurt. Like even the thought of hurting him, hurt. Peter didn't need to hear Roman say it out loud, but he heard it just the same.  _I lost you twice already._

"It's our best shot," Peter said. Roman's mouth turned into a thin line but he nodded. 

"Not here, we're too out in the open here." Roman slid his hand over Peter's as he got out of the hammock, a quick glide of skin that lasted an eternity. Peter couldn't tell if it was comfort or apology, but he accepted it as either. As he shut Roman's car door, he fervently hoped Destiny would forgive them both. 


	5. What Roman Can't Live Without

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman tries the trick with his eyes on Peter. Things don't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp here we are again, thanks for reading even when it takes me months to get a chapter out, I appreciate all of you hanging in there :) 
> 
> Canon typical blood stuff but otherwise no warnings, oh slight drug mention
> 
> unbeta-d all mistakes are my own

Roman was looking everywhere but at him. They were sitting on his bed, in his sparsely decorated room, yet the lamp seemed to be more appealing than Peter's eyes. He wanted to say something, some measure of comfort, but the silence had stretched far beyond comfortable, and he was afraid the moment to speak up was lost. All he could do now was wait for Roman to stop the mental battle he was no doubt waging with himself. This was definitely one of the worst things he had asked Roman to do for him. Unfortunately, he didn't see it being the last.

Roman dearly wanted a hit of something, anything, that would blur his consciousness from what he was about to do. There were fifteen hundred different ways he wanted to spend his time in bed with Peter, and this was not one of them. Did he trust himself enough not to hurt Peter? No, he didn't. He was fucking terrified. He had only used his power before to manipulate others for his own selfish gain. He didn't care about any of those people. He certainly didn't love them.

He could still hear the sound of Peter's wolf tearing, the awful squelching of fur and muscle, and the horrible moment when he doubted his decision. Then Peter's wrist was in his grasp and he pulled him free. He hated having to do something that would compromise the tentative hold Peter had on his wolf. He knew Peter was hiding much more than he let on.

"Fuck, let's do this. It'll go smoother if you don't fight back." He shook his head at how absurd those words were. He bit down the taste of bile in his throat, and locked eyes with the laughably trusting one's of Peter. 

Humans were easy to manipulate, it took nearly nothing for Roman to get inside their minds, to twist them and make them do exactly what he wanted. Peter wasn't human. Nothing about the energy of Peter's mind was human. He had never tried to control a mind that bit back. 

Roman winced in pain as he looked away first.

"Roman?" 

"You're too guarded, you have to relax. Your wolf isn't intent on letting me in easily." He rubbed the heel of his hand into his temple. 

"Sorry." Peter looked sheepish. "I'm not doing it consciously." 

Maybe Peter wasn't so calm about this as he projected. It comforted Roman a little to know he wasn't the only one freaking out. 

Roman tried again, letting himself fall into Peter's eyes, stretching out to take hold of him. 

Peter could feel the intrusion, like something trying to dig inside and he grit his teeth against it. He was vaguely aware of his hands starting to shake, but he concentrated on being open, pliant. In the back of his mind he heard snarling. 

Roman couldn't blame Peter's wolf for not being welcoming, it wasn't that long ago that he had tore him open. Instead of the usual snatching he did when he wanted to control people quickly, he tried to imagine himself with his palms out, placating and calm. If anything, the wolf got more agitated. The phantom snapping of jaws on his hands was enough for him pull back. 

Peter's gasp brought his eyesight back into focus and the shudder of pain that went through him was the first thing Roman saw. The second was how pale he was. 

"Peter-"

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute." His nerves were jittery, and an ache had formed on the back of his neck right where the first pop of his spine usually happened when he shifted. He cleared his throat, and took a few deep breaths. He didn't look at Roman until a touch to his hand startled him. 

Roman didn't know how to make this easier. He couldn't force the animal inside of Peter to trust him. He could offer Peter physical support, but he was going to have to face his wolf sooner or later.

"I'm fine-"

"Shut up," Roman said, not unkindly, as he leaned forward until they were nose to nose. He closed his eyes and kissed Peter silent. When Peter's tongue slid into his mouth, he sighed with relief and cupped his face to bring him closer.

Roman's mouth was wet and warm, and Peter chased that sharp penny taste, sucking at his bottom lip until the upir made a soft sound that was half whimper, half moan. They were stalling, but neither wanted to break the other open just yet.

Roman's mouth wandered to his neck, and Peter half-smiled wondering if most of their make-out sessions would end up with that way. With Roman at his neck, and him uncomfortably hard in his pants. 

With a slow drag of his lips, Roman reluctantly moved away from Peter's neck, and tilted his head back a little, hand cradling his head. Peter's eyes opened, and Roman rushed in.

Peter felt the wolf's growl burbling up in his throat, feral and threatening, and then he heard Roman's voice.

It's just me. 

You know me.

The growl died in his throat, and the sensation of Roman taking over sent his heart racing. He felt trapped in his skin, paralyzed, and his instinct was to fight against it. The animal in him thrashed against it, but he held firm. He ignored his discomfort in hope of what it would bring.

See Nadia. 

A flash of white went across his vision and he blinked against it.

See Nadia.

His ears started ringing with an high pitched whine. He saw the flash of trees from a birds eye view.

See Nadia.

The flash of an interstate sign, more trees, no longer ever greens these were trees with autumn leaves. A splatter of blood. Screaming. Dirt, warm earth beneath his fingers. Then another flash of bright light, the whine became a howl that roared in his ears.

Peter's eyes rolled back into his head, showing far too much white, and Roman abruptly pulled back, the recoil snapping through him like a rubber band.

"Peter!" Roman reached for him even as felt the warm slide of blood dripping from his eyes. He shook him lightly, and when he got no response, shook him harder. "Don't do this, Peter!"

"Ow, shit, fuck, your voice is too loud," Peter groaned out with his eyes still closed. He winced against Roman's hands as they pushed the hair from him face. Slowly, he opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, and as he focused on Roman he saw the red track marks down the upir's cheeks.

"Your eyes," he said. Sitting up took more concentration than it should, and he immediately regretted it as nausea flipped his stomach.

"Yours," Roman all but whispered.

"What? What's wrong with them?" He felt his skin for blood, and when he found nothing, he jolted from the bed, nearly vomiting on his way to the bathroom. 

The mirror was still cracked, bits of it hung onto the frame, but each shard reflected the golden yellow of wolf eyes. 

"No, no." He blinked hard, but the color refused to change back to brown. Splashing water in his face, and vigorously rubbing at his eyelids with a towel also did nothing to budge them. 

"I don't think you're turning." Roman pushed Peter out of the way of the sink so he could rinse the blood. "You smell different when you're about to turn. You don't smell like that now." You smell like the stink of fear and dread and please don't make me do that again, Roman thought, please. 

Peter forced down his panic to take stock of his body, to feel for the telltale ripple of the shift, the subtle expanding followed by the more forceful ache that bloomed into pain at the breaking of his bones. It didn't happen. 

Roman stayed quiet even though he suddenly felt like screaming. He had done that to Peter, had antagonized the wolf and it was showing both of them who was still in charge.

"I think I'm okay." Peter tested out the words, and surprisingly found them to be true. The faint throb of a headache lingered, and his neck was sore, but he wasn't badly hurt. Roman avoided his eyes. "I saw something, an interstate sign, if we do it again-"

"We're not doing it again." And, oh, it had been a while since Peter had heard that tone directed at him, that clipped superior way Roman talked to people who would unquestionably obey. 

"Roman, I saw something. I just need it to be clearer, that sign, it could be everything," he insisted. 

"Or it could be nothing. And this would be a waste, your eyes," he breathed. "What if you don't come back?" 

In his question Peter could hear the fear of abandonment, and yeah, he deserved that. 

"Letha would have wanted us to try, to-"

"Don't you fucking tell me what Letha would've wanted!" Anger poured out of him then, fueled by his fear and grief. "Letha wouldn't have wanted you to be trapped as a fucking monster, she wouldn't have asked that of you! She wouldn't sacrifice you. Don't ask me to," he bit out, and then slammed the door behind him. 

Well fuck a duck, Peter thought.

He loves me.


	6. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time apart and a trip to a tower resolve a tired argument between the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot another chapter, a little short this time but it didn't seem cohesive to try and smush other things into this one. Thank you all for reading along and waiting it out, I appreciate all of your comments and kudos, they mean a lot to me :)
> 
> un-betad all mistakes are my own

Peter's first instinct was to leave. That's what wolves did when they were hurt, they hid. But he wasn't just a wolf, and leaving would only serve to piss Roman off even more. He spent more time than he wanted to admit, staring into his own eyes and watching for any change. He didn't know what the gold of them meant but he was sure he wouldn't like the answer. 

Destiny had warned him emphatically about the consequences. Roman warned him just as fiercely. Why was he so intent on not listening to them? Self destructive behaviors were a hard thing to shake off apparently. When did self-sacrifice become another way to punish himself?

Not keen on spending the night in Roman's room, he descending the stairs for the couch, and paused at the bottom of them. The bright spot of a lit cigarette shone through the glass front door. He waited, watching it methodically rise and fall. 

Roman hoped Peter would give him space, he didn't want to look at the wolf lurking in his eyes. He wasn't scared of Peter, never was, but he was scared of the things Peter wanted him to do. Of the ways in which he was willing to lose himself for Nadia, and Letha. And him. Wasn't it in some way all about him? Or was that his narcissism and selfishness talking?

Roman ground out the end of a cigarette with his shoe as he lit another. If Peter was the price he was going to have to pay for finding Nadia, it was too steep. Fuck, how terrible of a father was he, that he wasn't willing to sacrifice everything, everyone, to get her back. He knew part of his hesitance, his resistance, was because she was a constant reminder of all the wrong he committed. Nadia represented all of the things he wanted to tear out of himself. She was pure upir, and though it was no fault of her own, he was also responsible for the monster lurking in her. For the thing that she would one day become. 

And some awful part of him was relieved that she was gone. 

But his feelings didn't matter anymore, because he had Peter's feelings, and Peter loved her enough for the both of them. Peter could teach him to love her, just like he taught him friendship, and loyalty. Taught him how to trust, even after it was broken. Love, was just another word for trust anyway.

Taking one last drag, he flicked the butt onto the porch and went to his car.

Typical, Peter thought as he listened to Roman drive away. He expects me to stay, so he leaves.

Shelley woke up to a heavy arm around her waist. Normally, this would be grounds for immediate screaming, but she had pulled the covers back herself for her midnight visitor. Her staff, and Johann, had let him into her quarters with minimal fuss, though she was quite surprised to see Roman at so late an hour. It only took one glance to tell something was ailing him, and she was certain it had to do with their local werewolf. She wished they would overcome their petty arguments and past hurts. It was painfully obvious they desired each other, and all of their quaint tip toeing around one another was becoming too much to bear. And though it really wasn't her place to interfere, she couldn't help but want to impart some kind of sisterly advice. But what did she know of loving werewolves?

Perhaps, if she were so bold, she could delicately bring Peter up and surely the mere mention would spur Roman into divulging his inner turmoil. Or he would divert the conversation so as to focus on her, as he was want to do, and without unburdening himself to her confidence. Then again, maybe all he needed was a good night's rest, as had eluded him these past weeks.

Loathe as she was to wake him, she was unfortunately getting a rather urgent crick in her neck, and would need to move as soon as possible. Slipping out of bed, wasn't something she could do easily, and his gentle huff told her it didn't matter if she quietly did it or not. 

"Do you want waffles for breakfast?" He stared intently at her, in that gentle way he reserved for her. 

"That would be nice," she smiled at him.

Breakfast included a visit from Johann, and some pointed stares from Roman, but once the doctor had left, Shelley tapped Roman's hand. 

"Something's wrong," she voiced it like a question. He nodded. "Is Peter okay?" 

She knew better than to ask him if he was okay, and she had a feeling that Peter was Roman's barometer for 'okay'.

"I don't know. He-" 

Has a death wish, and I'm afraid he's using me to fulfill it. 

"-Isn't in the best of shape-"

And neither am I, and how am I supposed to take care of both of us?

"-but, something happened. We got a lead, on Nadia." 

Shelley lit up at Nadia's name. She hadn't had a chance to meet her niece yet, but she couldn't help but be pleased about her existence. 

"It puts Peter in danger." 

I put Peter in danger. 

Shelley wrinkled her nose. 

"Peter is always in danger," Shelley started with a hesitant breath. "Being an outsider, being what he is, he's always going to be in some kind of danger. You can't protect him from everything. Didn't you learn that already with me?" 

"But what if I'm the danger? Shelley, I can't be the one to put him in danger." 

Danger follows you too big brother, and isn't it better to be in danger together, than all alone? Being alone was fear, and uneasiness, was reaching out and grasping air. Being together, even if it was together in danger, meant reaching out and having someone grab your hand. It would always be better. She knew a thing or two about being alone, and if she were given a choice about being safe alone or in danger with someone, she'd choose the danger every time. She'd choose danger for Roman. 

"Peter is going to run headfirst into danger for you, with or without you, but I'd guess that he'd prefer to run into it with you." 

Roman put his hand over hers, and squeezed lightly.

"You're right Shelley, you always are." 

The smile he shot her bloomed affection in her chest, and just for a quick second Roman thought he saw her cheeks glow.

Roman idled in his car for a while before going into his house. He didn't mind confrontation, on many occasions had sought it out, but those were all arguments he knew he could win. Fighting with Peter was different, Peter could hold his own and wasn't easily cowed. 

"Watch out for the screwdriver," Peter called out at him right before he nearly tripped over a bolt. 

"What scre-" Roman's foot slid out in front of him and almost brained himself on the wall but managed to twist and keep upright.

"Could you pass that to me while you're at it," Peter said around the two nails in his mouth. 

"This doesn't look like the picture online," Roman mused. The simple cabinet with glass siding doors he had ordered, was now a multi-tiered cabinet with glass doors that opened on a hinge. The wood had been stained a deep chestnut color and it stood on silver clawed feet instead of rollers. 

"It's better. Still ended up with extra parts though." He started collecting the leftover pieces and putting them into a toolbox. "Where did you want this thing to go anyways?"

"One of the guest rooms. Thought it would liven them up a bit." 

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

"Or it was an insomnia induced eBay buy, I don't even remember ordering it." He sat wearily at the edge of the couch. "Look, if we're going to try again, we should do it tonight, because tomorrow is the full moon, and you shouldn't be straining yourself that close to changing."

Right, shifting, that thing Peter was trying to forget was going to happen. He wanted to ask what changed his mind, but knew better than to poke a sleeping bear. Or an already agitated upir.

"But if you start growing claws or fangs or shit to match your eyes, that's it, we're not doing it again. We're not going to be able to find Nadia if you're feral. Deal?" 

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *when peter builds things they actually come out nice, when i try and build things i end up with leftover parts and a headache


	7. Destiny Interferes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman and Peter get their destination with a touch more Destiny than either wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, and for reading :)

They were on his bed again, but this time it was Peter who was taking his time meeting Roman's eyes. He wasn't sure he'd ever get use to the sensation of someone else crawling around inside his brain. Maybe, like all things Roman, he'd get used to it with time. Maybe he'd grow to enjoy it, to want it.

"Deep breath," Roman said. Peter nodded and looked up. Roman rushed in, curling around him, and his wolf instantly started protesting. Instead of recoiling, Roman held firm, steady in the face of Peter's viciousness. Chills crawled up his spine at the sensation of being circled, of being hunted. The hot breath of the wolf washed over his face. I'm not afraid of you, he thought, I've seen your true face.

_See Nadia ___

Roman pushed at Peter's defenses harder than he wanted to, but he hoped that it would get them their answer faster so he could get out of there. Peter sucked in a deep breath through his mouth.

_See Nadia ___

It felt like spiders crawling through his fur, crawling in his mouth, his nose, slipping inside his ears. 

"Roman," he half-growled, the wolf closer to the surface than he'd like. Flashes of deep forest sparked behind his eyes. The highway, an exit. 

_See Nadia ___

Pain burst at the base of his neck, a flash of amber eyes, as he gasped.

Roman pulled back sharply, an indefinable feeling of emptiness filling him. His vision blurred, then righted itself. Peter choked in air, his insides churning with nausea. He reached out to steady himself, and Roman was there, not holding him, not quite. 

"Fuck," Peter said, sensation rushed back into his limbs. His ribs felt hammered. He lifted the edge of his shirt up just in time to see one of his ribs pop back into place. He looked up to see Roman's eyes were blank. At least they weren't bloodied.

"We're not doing this again, so if you didn't get it-"

"I got it. I saw the exit." The ache of a truly magnificent bruise forming on his ribs made him wince. "Waldridge Road. That's what the exit said. I kept getting," he groaned a little, "forest. She's out in the woods somewhere. Somewhere where there's wolves." 

"Wolves?" Roman rubbed a hand over his face. 

"Yeah. They have to have her out in a cabin or something." 

Roman slid his hand against Peter's shoulder briefly before getting up to grab his iPad. It felt like an apology. 

"There are apparently five Waldridge Road exits, all within about four days drive from here. Three aren't near forests, or any type of nature reserve. One is near Canada. The other is in the desert." 

Peter lifted his eyebrows in what he hopes is an answer. Roman nodded. 

"Towards Canada it is. Obviously we'll stay here until after the full moon is over," he looks to Peter for agreement before he continues. "Shit, I'm going to have to speak with my mother," he spit out. Peter looked confused and then his eyes widened.

"You're going to leave her in charge of the White Tower?" 

"Better than leaving Johann fucking in charge. Maybe I'll tell them they're both in charge. With any luck they'll bitch and snip at each other so much there won't be time to do any real damage before we return." 

Peter frowned, and the scrunch of his forehead hurt. 

"Could you leave another relative in charge?" Peter rubbed at his temples. 

"I guess, but who...Shelley," he grinned. 

"She has the Godfrey name." Peter twirled his finger in the air. "There is one other person we have to tell that we're leaving."

"She's going to kill me for your eyes," Roman groaned.

"Well, that was a given." 

"Can we tell Destiny tomorrow? I don't think I can handle her attempts at upir eradication tonight." 

"Fair enough."

Destiny Rumancek was not a person who could be described as even tempered. Nor could she be described as calm, not even when she was asleep. Andreas knew all about her flopping in the sheets, getting so tangled that he often woke up inexplicably wrapped. She tried to reign in the easy flare of anger that often sparked up when people asked her inane questions, or winked at her lecherously, or even sometimes if they breathed too hard near her. Tried, being the operative word. She however, didn't try one bit to stop the burst of incredulous fury that caused her to take a step towards the two equally idiotic supernatural creatures in her living room. 

"What the fuck happened to your eyes!" She grabbed his chin to get a better look at the wolf peeking back at her. Seeing the gold of his eyes felt strangely intimate, like she was seeing something she shouldn't be. "Is this because of the full moon tonight?" To her right she saw Roman raise his hand weakly. "This is your doing!?" She whirled on him, jabbing a finger at him. 

"I asked him to, we had to, to figure out where Nadia is," Peter batted her anxious hands away. 

"What is that worth if you lose your humanity?" She snarled at him. 

"That's what I was trying to tell him," Roman murmured to himself. 

"Destiny, we have a lead now, a solid lead. After months of nothing. We could find her. Bring her home." 

"No fair playing the baby card," she huffed and slumped down into her couch. "And you, what do you have to say for yourself?" She glared at Roman. 

"I want her back," he sighed, resolute. "I did try to not," he waves his hand in Peter's direction, "you know, the eye thing, but," he waves his hand emphatically at Peter. 

Peter flipped him off. 

"Well, I guess there's nothing to it then. I'm coming with you." 

Peter's mouth opened and he closed it with a hand on his chin. He turned towards Roman and sent him a look that said many things at once. Things like, nope, no way, nuh uh, uh, help? 

Roman ignored his look.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Roman told her. Peter threw his hands up in the air. 

"Watch yourself," she pointed at Roman. "I'm beginning to like you." She didn't like that Peter was involved with an upir, but as monsters went, he wasn't in terribly bad company. At least not from what she'd seen. Especially since, the monster in Peter seemed to be at the forefront at the moment. 

All Destiny wanted was a strong drink, a good fuck, and a long nap. Instead, she had to babysit her dumbass of a cousin, and his dumbass boyfriend, on a road trip to rescue their monster baby. 

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapters will be shorter but it's easier for me to get them out if they're shorter, so be expecting quicker updates, but shorter chapters


	8. Marshmallows and Tranq Guns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the full moon has Peter and Roman jittery, but at least there's sweet snacks to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Werewolf transformation scene- bit gore-y but canon typical

"You brought marshmallows?" Peter gave Roman a look that clearly said he wasn't amused. The upir shrugged.

"What? Thought I was going to get my kumbaya on while you become one with the forest or whatever," he put firewood into the fire pit. They were back at the trailer, both of them sat in lawn chairs, uneasy with waiting for the sun to go down.

"Did you bring graham crackers too?" Peter tried to peer into the bag Roman had packed. 

"Duh," Roman holds up the box as if he is offended by the very idea that he wouldn't bring all the fixtures for s'mores.

Peter rolled his eyes but kept his comments to himself. Under the circumstances if his wolf did decide to go rogue, Roman might be able to distract him with the sticky treat. At the very least it would be surprising enough that he would be able to make a run for it. Neither option was very pleasant to think about.

"Do you feel it yet?" Roman slouched down further into the chair.

"Always," Peter replied, because there wasn't a single moment out of the month when he didn't feel it. The ever increasing need to burst out of his own skin and become something better. The purest form of himself. Most days he wasn't sure if the human skin he wore was the real him. Like a masquerade, the human face was just a mask he put on, and the wolf was beneath.

Roman nodded and pulled his jacket tighter. It wasn't just s'mores he had in his bag, but also a tranquilizer gun loaded with sedative darts should Peter's wolf prove to be too much for him. He didn't want to have to shoot it, but it was a better alternative than to have to tear the wolf open again. Anything was better than that.

Peter bounced his leg as he took his rings off. His hands jostled with the movement, this part was always the worst. The waiting. Muscle memory started to kick in before his bones cracked, and his skin would suddenly be too tight, itchy and irritated at not being covered in fur. His body remembered being a predator and ached for it.

Roman held out his hand for Peter to drop his rings into. The necklace came next, and with it Roman could feel his hands were jittery with nerves. He felt like he should say something, but knew that anything that came out of his mouth now would be sarcasm or ill-mannered jokes and neither would bring any relief. For once he knew when to be silent.

"If I get stuck-" Peter started.

"You're not going to get stuck," Roman said, with that air of Godfrey finality.

"But if I do-"

"No," Roman turned to him. "We're not having this conversation."

"It's a bit arrogant not to," Peter argued.

Roman smiled beatifically. Peter frowned, there was no talking to him when he smiled like that.

"At least tell me you have a plan." Tell me that you'll put me down if you have to.

"I have a plan." My plan is to wing it, because you're not dying without me, and I'm not dying here today, Roman thought.

"Swell," Peter sighed. Something uncurled from within him, stretching, and he started to take off his flannel. Roman sat up at his movements. 

Nudity never made him feel ashamed, but Roman's direct stare made it hard to not want to cover himself. Especially when he met the upir's gaze and saw the heat in his terribly blue eyes.

"Stop it," Peter chided as a chill shivered through him. Roman smirked but redirected his gaze down towards his bare feet only to look back up when Peter exhaled loudly. 

His spine cracked first, bursting underneath his skin with a release not unlike the crack of knuckles. It shot pain and pleasure down to his toes. He could never get used to the sound but the roar of his blood in his ears usually drowned the worst of it out. His ribs went next, each one popping with enough force to double him over. Each one of his vertebrae broke apart, shaping into something longer, harder. And it wasn't just bone that needed to be remade, veins, muscle, every one of his cells shifted with him, lupine in nature. The breath after was always shaky, his lungs were expanding to fill the space.

"Peter?" Roman called his name with so much hesitance.

"So far so good," Peter grunted out right before the first canine pushed his human tooth out. This was his least favorite part. Like a teething pup, his mouth filled with saliva while his gums burned sharp points into powerful jaws. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, elongating. 

His eyes came next, and though he was sure it was a grisly sight as they fell out of his sockets, to him it was like picking off a particularly stubborn scab, satisfying in a way it shouldn't be. 

The next part was always a bit of a blur for him, his skin tearing open, arms lengthening, scratching at his face to relieve his new muzzle of the stringy bits of flesh that clung to his nose and covered his soft triangular ears. His dewclaws piercing outwards hurt, a flash of pain, bone made from nothing knitting together, sinew growing. It was the same with his tail. 

Then, when he shook as much blood and viscera off his fur as he could, the hunger started, gnawing, so he did the logical thing and ate himself, the bits that were now scattered on the leaf covered ground. 

In the back of his mind, in the part that was still distinctly human, an overpowering relief flooded him. The vargulf he had been afraid of becoming was gone, and in its place, the familiarity of being whole again. All off his worry and terrorizing fear melted into unmitigated joy at being able to dig his claws into the earth, connected, once again in a way he wasn't when he was human. Wolves were part of the forest, part of the ecosystem in more ways than just the food chain. Werewolves were bound to the energy of it, and the push and pull of that spirit. 

His wolf mind took over, shapes and colors were slightly different, but scent was stronger, and he caught the upir's distinct smell of blood and whiskey, old smoke, expensive shampoo, and the peach gummy candy he favored. 

"Peter?"

His ears twitched forward, picking up the gentle pitch of his other name, the one he's called when he walks upright. There weren't many categorizations available to him as a wolf, to describe what the upir was in relation to him. It boiled down to two choices. Friend or foe? He curled his lip back in a silent threat just in case. When it doubt, foe was the safest choice. 

The upir knelt down on one knee. He kept his eyes downcast, and that vaguely registered to him as a good thing, a respectable thing. 

"Are you going to be okay?"

Words were difficult now, too many meanings. He ignored them in favor of listening to the upir's heartbeat, steady, no fear. He took a few steps closer, and when the other looked up, he didn't see deceit, only a soft tenderness, a look reserved for pups or mates. Friend then. He huffed out a small snort, acknowledgment, and then turned tail towards the tree line. His stomach grumbled, time to find bigger game. 

Roman watched Peter pad into the forest, and sat back down. He lifted the tranquilizer gun into his lap, he knew from experience that Peter wasn't the only monster roaming around. However, unlike the werewolf, the other monsters came in the form of self righteous humans. He would be ready for them should any decide they wanted a new fur rug for the front of their fire place.


	9. The Highway to a Certain Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiny had been on many road trips, but this one sucked the most.

Destiny rolled her eyes behind large aviator sunglasses, and for the eighteenth time since they left Hemlock Grove, wondered if she should have stayed behind simply because being around two boys in love was nauseating. She had been surprised when Roman tossed Peter the keys to his car after loading her bag in the trunk. She'd assumed the upir wouldn't let anyone drive his ridiculously expensive, if admittedly gorgeous, car, yet he slid into the passenger seat as if this was routine. Like Peter drove him all the time, and didn't bat an eye when he fiddled with the radio station.

They didn't talk, because of her she knew, but they didn't need to. Their connection was electric, and it made Destiny feel unreservedly grumpy. When Roman uncapped a water bottle for Peter without prompting, and Peter drank from it, all without even so much as a glance at each other, she just about climbed out of the window to toss herself onto the highway. She could only handle cutesy when it included her, but this, this was like being privy to an eighty year old couple's intimacy. She opened her bag of chips and sulked in the back, missing Andreas' grounding humor already. 

It'll take them a day and a half to get there, if they stop for a night. Peter doesn't intend to stop, and when he gets tired enough, he'll just ask Destiny to drive, as Roman is notorious for taking the wrong exit. He takes a peek in the rearview mirror and meets Destiny's faraway gaze. She's never spent this much time with them, and he's worried she's going to see too much, not with her eyes, but with that extra sense of hers. He doesn't want her to see the depth of his connection to Roman, doesn't want to be asked about it. Maybe it's selfish, but he wants to keep Roman for himself, wants to keep their tenuous affection from all knowing eyes.

Roman watched what seems like endless trees pass by. He had fully expected to be anxious and jittery for the entire ride, probably piss Peter and himself off, and have to stop just so they wouldn't kill each other. But finally, after months, making their way to Nadia had made him chillingly calm. Maybe it was self preservation, his body's way of dulling the shock of not finding her, or worse, finding her and being too late to save her. Whatever it was, was welcome, like the haze of a drug, or a dream. Strangely grounding, floating on Peter's exhales, and the soft slide of Destiny shuffling tarot cards. Recklessly determined.

Destiny counted gas stations, truck stops, lamp posts, and finally she counted every time Roman's hand nearly touched Peter's. The count was so far at seventeen. At first she thought it had to be because she was in the car, and it wasn't like she had kept her dislike of their relationship quiet. But as she watched, she noticed that Roman didn't seem to be conscious of his hand drifting closer to Peter's knee where his hand rested. Like he couldn't help himself, drawn to Peter in tangible ways he probably didn't understand. She grimaced, and rested her forehead against the glass of the window. She wondered if Andreas ever felt that way about her. Like she was magnetic. 

Peter payed attention to the road, in so much as Roman let him. Road tripping with his cousin and his-friend? lover? upir?-made him more conscious of what was happening in the car, than out of it. He tried to ignore the way Roman's hand gravitated towards his leg, would rather he just touch him than hesitate. After twenty almost touches he put his arm solidly in the middle arm rest and barely thirty seconds later, Roman's fingers were twisted in his flannel sleeve. He let out a relieved breath, and felt rather than heard Roman do the same. For a brief moment he thought he even heard Destiny sigh one out, but a quick look in the rearview mirror showed her bored face and her ears plugged with headphones. He yawned, and turned the air conditioning on, hoping to stave off sleep for a while yet.

Roman's thoughts turned to Miranda, which was strange, he hadn't spared much thought for her in the past months. He had at first, when the sting of her betrayal, and grief, had been his steadfast companions. But he had shrugged off concern for her as the days passed. A hundred scenarios he had thought through, and in none of them was she justified in her actions. Peter would probably think differently, but on this, Roman refused to be budged. Yet now, he wondered if they would find her with Nadia, if she had lived and tried to save her. Part of him hoped that Miranda had survived to take care of her. Part of him hoped Miranda was already rotted away in the earth. All of him wished for Nadia.

Destiny zipped up her pants and stretched her arms wide over her head. She would've been more than happy to have peed into a bottle but Roman seemed to be a little opposed to that suggestion. Peter had snorted when she mentioned it, he'd been in more than one car where that very thing had transpired. He'd done worse himself. She touched her toes a couple of times before sliding back into her seat. She saw Peter's mouth open in a large yawn, she'd have to take over driving soon. Her foot itched to see how far she could push Roman's car, but the boys' dour mood threatened to suck all the joy from it. Just as well, she supposed she couldn't really afford another speeding ticket, though it wasn't like she had paid the last four. As far as road trips went, this one wasn't topping any of her charts.

Peter handed over the keys to Roman's car, and shot Destiny a look that clearly said: behave. She stuck her tongue out at him. He was completely unsurprised to find Roman already in the backseat, long legs spread wide as he slouched. If Destiny thought it strange that he moved, she didn't say anything as she started the car. He didn't want to sleep, but if they were going to find themselves face to face with a giant manta ray monster, than doing so well rested was better than strung out and half-asleep. He curled up against the window, and the passing street lamps, like glowing moons, bled into one another until he closed his eyes. 

Roman didn't sleep. He did lay down, putting his head in Peter's lap, but sleep eluded him. The forest they were going to, was miles wide. He was banking on his upir senses to guide them at least until they could find tracks, or signs of Nadia. He knew Peter was going to want to change, to shift and track her in his wolf form. It wasn't a full moon anymore, but that wouldn't deter Peter. Roman could though. How ridiculous, to fall in love with a werewolf bent not on the destruction of humans, but of himself. He'd been saving it, the pronouncement of his unfortunate affection, in hopes that it would stall Peter from destroying himself in some inane form of penance. Love shouldn't be a trump card, a last ditch effort, but he wasn't above using it for just that. 

"We're almost there," Destiny broke the silence as she turned the car onto Waldridge Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> argh my writing times are few and far between now that school is decidedly kicking my butt. bear with me. no really, please bring bears, just unleash all the bears onto my campus so i can have a few days off


	10. Into the Woods We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter, Roman, and Destiny head into the woods to finally figure out what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your continued comments, kudos, and reading :D

Destiny listened to Peter and Roman yell at each other as she rooted around in her bag. She had barely parked the car when Peter had slammed the door shut and immediately started to unbutton his flannel. Which she thought was a bit strange since there was snow on the ground and it was cold as shit, but then she saw Roman's stricken face. Of course Peter would once again think that shifting immediately into a wolf on the wrong moon was the best possible scenario. Luckily, Roman tackled him and in the ensuing struggle, she was able to find her scrying toad.

"Fucking stop! We're not doing this again," Roman growled out, voice tight with anger. Peter stepped towards him and for a second Destiny thought he'd attack the upir, but instead he just showed his blunt human teeth in frustration. 

"This is important!" Peter yelled.

"So are you fuckwit! You're important to me! What the fuck am I going to do when you ruin yourself and leave me without a daughter and someone I can..." Roman caught himself before he divulged more than he wanted to.

"And someone you can what?" Peter asked. Roman glared.

"And someone I can trust," he settled for. Peter stared at him, the fury in his eyes lessening into something far dangerous. 

In the silence, Destiny cleared her throat. 

"Did you both think that you'd brought along the psychic just for funsies? Why don't we try something a little less bloody first, huh?" She held up the petrified toad. Honestly, she shook her head, her cousin always wanted to jump into the first dangerous thing that came into his mind, and Roman wasn't much better. 

She kneeled down in the snow and placed her toad in the middle of a quickly drawn circle. Roman and Peter hovered over her, but she ignored them in favor of concentrating. Amphibians were good conductors in spell work, they lived in that in between place, not entirely water, not entirely land. If Peter had better control on his wolf, she could've used him, werewolves being what they were, but his recklessness steered her away from that option. Once she'd whispered the summoning words over it, she picked up the stone-like toad and licked a stripe up its back, making sure to run her tongue towards its head. Her eyes watered at the taste, and in her hands she felt it start to move.

"What the fuck," she heard Roman whisper as it stretched its legs out, and hopped out of her hand. It bounded out of the circle, and started for the trees.

"Follow that toad! We only have an hour before it deactivates!" Destiny coughed a little, and wiped her tongue on the back of her jacket sleeve. She unwrapped a stick of peppermint gum as she started to jog.

Roman wasn't sure what it said about his life that running after a recently resurrected toad was the least strange thing he'd done all year. For an animal that had just been revived it sure hopped quickly. It kept them at an almost running pace, the frost of the air stinging his cheeks as he jogged to keep up with it. 

Peter didn't mind the running, it was the feeling of eyes at the back of his neck that kept him on edge. He didn't have as strong a sense of smell in his human body, but there was definitely something else in the woods besides them. Another predator. His wolf paced, tail low, the beginning of a snarl dried out his throat. He saw what looked to be a pathway to his left, but the toad passed it, kept hopping right along. 

"Shit!" Destiny yelped as the snow covered bones of a deer caused her to trip hands first into the frozen viscera of the long dead animal. "Oh gross," she let Roman and Peter help her up. "I'm fine, I'm fine, it's not the first time I've been covered in guts, go, you have to keep up with the toad," she wiped her hands on her jacket in disgust. Her knee protested when she straightened back up, but it would probably just bruise. She walked a couple of steps but the snow was deep and her knee kept twisting the wrong way. "Well fuck," she muttered and started to make her way back towards the car.

The snow was soft, hindering their jogging but the toad seemed unfazed, lightweight enough to barely sink in.

Roman was so intent on watching the toad, on making sure he didn't lose sight of it, that he didn't notice the dark shape in the trees hurtling for it. 

The wolf exploded out the trees in a flurry of snow and pounced on the toad. It shook its massive head as it tried to kill the amphibian, growling a dark sound that raised the hair on Roman's neck. 

"Hey! That's our toad!" Roman yelled futilely, anger overriding his shock. Peter hit his arm as the black wolf turned golden eyes at them, lips curled back in a silent snarl, the toad forgotten at its feet. Roman hit his arm back. "Tell it we're looking Nadia."

Peter tore his eyes away from the growling animal to give the upir an incredulous look. If he had a dollar for every stupid ass thing Roman assumed about werewolves he'd have enough to buy Roman's house. 

"I don't speak wolf," he grit out. "I can't just tell it we're trying to find Nadia."

The wolf's ears perked up. The snarling stopped. Nadia? That sound, the wolf knew that sound. 

"Are you sure about that?" Roman asked. "Can you help us find Nadia?" 

The wolf's ears twitched again. The tone was different, but the sounds strung together was familiar.

"It's her name. It recognizes her name," Peter breathed out. "Nadia, can you take us to Nadia."

The wolf snorted and turned its back to them as it started to walk away. A few paces ahead and it stopped to look back at them before continuing to walk.

"First a toad, then a wolf, what will we be following next," Roman sing songed. Peter spared a moment to grab the now torn apart toad and shove it in his pocket before following. He'd have to buy Destiny a new one. 

Peter heard them before he saw them, their yipping barks echoed in the quiet of the forest. The wolf they were following gave a sharp bark and then it only took a few seconds before its pack mates were surrounding it, wiggling and yapping, their tails waving as they greeted. Only when Roman cleared his throat did the others take stock of the two intruders. All eyes swung to them. 

A shaggy brown wolf approached them from the crowd of fifteen. One of its eyes was clouded over and a large scar ran across her snout. The black wolf had licked at her face.

"That one's in charge," Peter whispered.

"No shit," Roman huffed. 

The wolf sniffed at them while the others watched. Her nostrils flared at whatever she found there, maybe some hint of Nadia, a sense of familiarity. She shook her head, ignored them, and trotted into a copse of trees. When Roman made to follow the black wolf snapped at him.

"Roman, whatever happens..."

"It's okay."

"Would you let me-"

"No need."

"Fine, asshole," Peter said with no heat behind his words. Instead they were laced with his support and affection.

They waited in anxious silence for the brown wolf to reappear.

Finally, she came out of the trees, her gait slow and steady, even when Roman rushed for her and the tiny passenger on her back. Even when the strange pup she'd been taking care of let out an excited cry. She stayed perfectly still as the larger humans took the pup off her back. This hadn't been her first encounter with a small lost human although it had been the first time one had summoned her. The little pup had been covered in blood and the stench of something fishy lingering on her. She had kept a look out for larger humans, sure that the ones with hounds and flashing lights would encroach on her territory but when none had come she worried. Returning a little human was one thing, but raising a little human would be infinitely harder. Pink, squiggly, no fur to protect her from the harsh cold, she was certain that she'd wake up one morning and find the little one dead. She had scooted other pups around the bald pup, hoping to keep her warm. The strange pup had refused offers of milk from a newly whelped mother, but had clapped her paws together at the regurgitated chunks of meat offered to her. Trial and error proved best and they'd figured out that she took bloody meat more than others. With months gone by, the brown wolf had accepted the tiny pup into her pack and now seeing her in the paws of the larger humans, knowing that this would be the last she saw of her, she couldn't help the soft whine that squeezed from her throat. 

Roman couldn't believe Nadia was back in his arms, her body hugged against his with Peter crying on both of them. He hadn't let himself believe he'd find her alive but her small hand clutched his jacket and he swore he could hear Letha's happy laughter. Peter would tell him later that he heard her too. A sad whine broke his disbelief. Peter let him go so he could turn towards the wolf who had taken care of his daughter. Tiny howls, like crying pups, rose from the trees, and the adult wolves gathered had their tails tucked low. 

"Thank you," he knelt in the snow so she could sniff at Nadia's wispy hair. "I don't know if you can understand, but thank you. You saved her life."

You've saved mine and Peter's. 

The old wolf licked at Nadia's head one last time. She understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No bears, but I finally have time to write *cries in relief* Well darlings it's been a hell of a ride, and I still can't believe that so many of you have left such lovely comments telling me you love the tone and characterization, I'm always humbled by them. I'll be finishing this up before the end of the year, so expect at least two more updates, I'm thinking another chapter and then the epilogue.


	11. What the Future Holds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling back into life isn't easy when the future holds too many unknowns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whistles to self* lets just forget that 3+ month hiatus shall we *ahem*
> 
> Thanks for your continued reading and kudos/comments, as always they are great, y'all sustain me :)

Miranda was dead, along with Dr. Spivak. They found them bloodied and in parts strewn across a remote cabin house. Peter was glad about Spivak, more than glad, the sense of vengeance he'd been carrying in his shoulders finally righted. He mourned for Miranda, he couldn't help it. She hadn't deserved to get caught up in their shit and she certainly didn't deserve to die so horrifically. Even Roman grimaced at the gristle of bone and blood smeared across the floor, her blonde hair stained red. Destiny had taken one look at Dr. Spivak's bloody mess of a body and had elected to stay in the car with Nadia. 

They didn't stay long, just long enough for Roman to call Johann about the bodies. Then they started the ride back, Nadia settled into a carseat between them. Roman put a protective hand over her stomach and didn't close his eyes until they were back in his house. The nursery had already been redone, the double doors on her room removed as well as a new corridor between the bedroom and nursery put in place. No more nannies, Roman had told him as they pulled up. No one that isn't us, he'd said staring into the rearview mirror where Destiny's eyes met his. 

Destiny stayed with them long enough to see Nadia sleeping in her crib, her sweet blonde hair splayed out around her head like a halo. She held her breath and touched the baby's hand, and when her second sight didn't kick in, no horrible premonition of the future, relief flooded her. She met Peter on the stairs down, his eyes searching hers for the trouble he knew lingered around any who shared the Godfrey name. She smiled, shook her head and basked in his hesitant grin. When she finally made it home to Andreas' arms she allowed herself to cry, to pour out the horror and gladness and affection she felt. Andreas wisely kept his mouth shut and gave her all the space and time she needed. 

They were surprised to see the White Tower still standing, and even more when Johann relinquished control without so much as an annoying quip in Roman's direction. It wasn't until his eyes lit up upon seeing Nadia that they understood what had him in such a cooperative mood. If he wanted to run a check up on the little upir, he would have to appease Roman. 

Roman grimaced at the drool practically forming in Johann's mouth from the anticipation of having an upir child, but he boxed up his disgust in favor of making an ally. Nadia sat on the white sheet of the hospital bed vigorously chewing on plastic keys. Peter stood next to him, his hands clenching every now and then as if to grab her away should the need arise. Johann reached out for her but stopped at a wave of Roman's hand. 

"I'm trusting you with her," he started and in a show of his trust cast his eyes down. The hostility in the room stilled for a moment of shock. "I'm trusting you with her like I trust you with Shelley. I need you to love her, like you love Shelley. She's going to need you to protect her from the scheming and the manipulations and the general shit that my mother will eventually throw her way. I wish I could be enough for her but I know my cunt of a mother and how easy it is to end up playing her game. Can you be the person she relies on if Peter and I are knee deep in it? Will you be that for her?" 

Johann's surprise didn't show on his face but his shoulders relaxed, and he softened his stance, his hands. 

"I could try to be," he said softly. Roman chanced a look at his face and was met by the strength of Johann's eyes. 

"If you do anything to harm her, to use her in any way, experiment or otherwise, you'll have to worry about more than just us hurting you," Roman motioned at Nadia. "You saw what happened to Spivak. She did that on her own, with her mind, and she'll only get stronger."

"You needn't threaten me Roman. I've already said I'll protect her. It's been my general experience that having a powerful upir in one's good graces is advantageous." 

Roman nodded, Peter relaxed, and Nadia raised her shockingly blue eyes to Johann.

Olivia was waiting for them at the door to Roman's house, her violet floor length dress swirled around her ankles in the breeze. Roman handed Nadia to Peter and took his phone out.

"This is stalking you know. Get off of my property. Yes, this is Roman Godfrey, I have an intruder on my property," Roman held the phone so tightly in his grip his knuckles ached.

"Now this is ridiculous. I've merely come by for a visit, to see that the child is well." Olivia took a step towards them.

Peter growled, low and deep in his throat, guttural and vicious. 

"Don't you growl at me puppy, I could easily tear you apart," Olivia snarled. 

"The last time I tore you apart didn't quite stick. Maybe this time I should start with your throat," Roman spit at her his mouth wide open with fangs bared. 

She rolled her eyes at that but they felt the shift in her demeanor. While she might have been a match for Peter unless he shifted, Roman on the other hand was too much a gamble. Her precious boy, as volatile as ever, always one spark away from a forest fire. It made her proud in a perverse way, that he should stand before her in all of his upir glory and turn against her. The mutt, well, there was no accounting for his particular proclivities. 

"I'll be wanting to see my grandchild at some other time then. Bye darling," she waved as she made her way across the lawn just as the siren of the police unit was heard. 

Peter held Nadia to him, her warm weight a comfort beyond anything he'd ever felt before. 

"Come on, let's get inside," Roman beckoned. Peter passed him on the way in and with his free hand grabbed the upir to himself. Startled, it took Roman a second to process the hug before returning it, Nadia cradled between them.

It took days for them to calm down enough that the opening of a window wouldn't spook Roman or the sound of a cabinet banging cause Peter to panic. They were home, Nadia was safe, but they couldn't guarantee she would be safe every moment of her life and the not knowing ate away at them. Peter could barely sleep without her in the room, and Roman kept his eyes open out of fear that if he closed them she would be gone. He stopped going to the White Tower until a nasty call from Johann made him break down and buy a playpen for her so he could take her with him. The first couple of times Peter went with them and visited with Shelley. 

Shelley had taken one look at Nadia and for the first time in months lit up in glowing blue. Johann had sputtered while Nadia laughed and held out her arms for her aunt. The two were nearly inseparable anytime Peter brought her in. Shelley only glowed when Nadia was near and the answer as to why kept Johann more than busy, it kept him consistently perturbed because he couldn't figure it out. 

On days when Peter had Nadia all to himself he liked to take her to the park and then to Destiny's place to visit.

"Peter, you have to sleep," Destiny chided him as she pushed him towards her couch. Nadia slept in his arms having fallen asleep on the ride over. "Don't you know that you're supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps. I thought everyone knew that." 

Peter tsked but settled more into her squishy couch. 

"What does everyone know?" He murmured as he closed his eyes. She opened her mouth to say more but his breathing evened out so quickly, and Nadia's sweet face was squished on his chest. Instead of berating him some more she went to grab a blanket. 

An hour later Destiny answered a knock at her door.

"I'm looking for a lost mutt, blue gray eyes, yea high, answers to Good Boy?" Roman put his hand up to show how tall Peter was.

"Yuck, I don't want to know what names you call each other in bed," Destiny waved him in. Roman snorted. 

"Such a praise kink that one," he couldn't help himself, teasing Destiny was too easy. 

"Blergh!" She put her hand on his mouth to silence him, "You're gonna make me vom." 

"There's my baby," he said after she moved back to the blankets on the floor where Nadia was playing with stuffed toys. Destiny kept her remarks to herself but she couldn't tell if he was talking about Nadia or Peter. 

"He's been out for a little over an hour now. Nadia woke up about twenty minutes ago," Destiny moved the stuffed bear like it was dancing and Nadia mimicked her with a stuffed duck. 

Roman knelt down to smooth down a wisp of her golden hair. 

"Do you think," he touched his lips and frowned a bit, "that when the upir whisperer comes, she could maybe do a two for one?" 

"I'll ask but I'm sure it's fine." 

"This shit's hard, finding control, figuring out different triggers. It shouldn't be like this, having to do it alone without family or I don't know, a support group. I just want what's fucking best for her." 

"She has you. That's what's best for her. And the two of you have Peter, but right now what she needs is for the two of you to get some much needed sleep. Go on, get Peter and you can have the bed." She watched Roman hesitate.

"No, this is fine," he waved his hands towards the couch where it barely contained Peter's sleeping form. She frowned as she watched him plop down on the opposite end of the couch, which still put him in Peter's lap, and trailed one leg on the floor while the other got propped near Peter's head. Peter stirred just enough to press his nose into Roman's ankle. 

When Andreas walked through the door later that evening he stared bemused at the pair on the couch before finding Destiny and a baby in their bedroom. 

"What's with the monster mash on the couch? Is this the baby? Nadia?" 

The baby in question was playing with one of Destiny's wooden tarot decks. Three cards were spread in front of her and she seemed to stare at them as if trying to decipher a very difficult code. 

"She isn't...she can't be divining is she?" 

"Why not?"

Andreas frowned but moved closer to see what had been drawn.

"Well, what does it say? Anything good?" He looked from Nadia to Destiny.

She smiled in that coy way that drove him nuts because it meant either really good things or really bad things.

"Uh huh, and what about those two out there? Are they going to be okay?"

Destiny turned from him to offer her eyes to the little upir, making sure to keep them wide and open, trusting, and watched the baby's smile reach her glowing eyes.

"Yeah I think they'll be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard in the sense that it has a lot in a little. I really wanted to make sure I had most of my bases covered with kind of wrapping things up. This is the final chapter before the epilogue.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at colorofakiss.tumblr.com


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